


i wanna hold your hand

by ballerinaroy



Series: together or not at all [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23082247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: On a day like any other Ron can't help but marvel at his boyfriend.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter/Ron Weasley
Series: together or not at all [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632493
Comments: 12
Kudos: 257





	i wanna hold your hand

It was the sort of hazy Saturday afternoon where time seemed to stretch on forever. They had no agenda, no plans and had spent the better of the morning lounging in bed before relocating to the front room, drinking some of the muggle beer Hermione’s father had introduced them to and listening to a nondescript match on the wireless.

So mundane, so routine, it might have been summer or winter and Ron wouldn’t’ve known the difference. The bottle had warmed in his hand and was nearly empty when he looked over to ask if Harry might want another. Before he opened his mouth however, Ron found himself distracted by Harry’s mindless expression, relaxed as he stared across the living room at Crookshanks, napping peacefully in a patch of afternoon sunlight.

A wave of gratitude passed over him. Harry could have been anywhere, could have chosen any friends or weekend plans and yet, again and again, he had chosen _him._ His eyes traveled down from his boyfriend’s face to his chest and arms and then landed on the hand resting carelessly on the sofa cushion separating them. Ron felt the irresistible urge to hold it, to have his skin pressed against Harry’s, to feel the strength of his fingers.

Ron’s hand fell from his stomach inches from Harry’s. He didn’t notice, or perhaps simply pretended not to, eyes staring blankly ahead as someone within the wireless scored and faraway cheers erupted.

Stretching finger after finger, Ron’s hand crawled towards Harry across the uneven texture of the cushion.

It seemed like it took forever, that Harry should have reacted. But he was still oblivious to Ron’s advances. One inch, half of one, their fingers were so close Ron could sense the outline of Harry’s hand even without glancing, feel how the fabric was pulling, sloping towards him.

A quarter of an inch, a hair between them. His pinky hovered in the air, wondering if this was what Harry wanted at all. If he was simply playing dumb to Ron’s advances to spare his feelings. But the warmth of his skin was irresistible and Ron let his pinky fall, brushing the edge of Harry’s.

Still, Harry didn’t respond except to bring his bottle to his lips, the lips Ron had spent several hours knowing intimately the evening before—Merlin, why was this so different?

They loved one another, had confessed it dozens of times, shagged one another senseless, shared a girlfriend, a home, a life.

But the act of holding his hand, the thing Ron had been trying desperately to do for a good few minutes was too much to verbalize, to request.

Ron forced his hand to remain still, to linger, to give Harry a chance to refuse and when he didn’t Ron desired more. He wanted to feel Harry’s skin, the callouses and dents from the grip on his wand. He reached over a second finger, his ring enrapturing Harry’s smallest finger, tangling them together.

So concentrated on where their skin had been meeting, hadn’t noticed Harry’s gaze shifting, hadn’t realized Harry’s eyes were now on him, studying him intently. But now that he’d cottoned on, he could feel his ears turning red even though Harry’s smile was full of affection rather than teasing.

Bravely Ron completed the task, lifting Harry’s hand so all their fingers could tangle together, stroking his thumb over Harry’s palm, noticing the heat and the moisture. Signs of anticipation rather than dread. Of wanting.

They both seemed to tilt towards one another even though neither moved significantly, still occupying opposite ends of the furniture, only their hands touching as the wireless wafted sounds of a far away match. Lives saved with the very hand Ron was now holding.

Harry’s head turned back forward tough now the corners of his lips were upturned in a bashful smile, a content sigh. A hazy afternoon, just like any other.

**Author's Note:**

> Working on some other stuff for the series but a lot of it has been angsty and I needed some fluff for my own sanity. Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> [Follow me on Tumblr! ](https://ballerinaroy.tumblr.com/)


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